


You're Nothing But Trouble

by Elenothar



Series: The Long Road Home [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwalin doesn't know how to deal with Nori ever since they 'accidentally' made out after BOTFA, Fili and Kili are alternately amused and horrified, M/M, Nori keeps stealing Dwalin's stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenothar/pseuds/Elenothar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin's relationship with Nori is... complicated. <strike>Un</strike>fortunately Nori doesn't see it that way (and Dwalin-baiting is his favourite pastime anyway).</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Nothing But Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone who was curious about the Dwalin/Nori part of Only Honour Left.

***

Nori was appointed unofficial coordinator of the search for Thorin without much debate. That was largely due to the fact that if you wanted something found, Nori was the dwarf to turn to – more often than not what you were searching for would be found somewhere _on_ Nori’s person, especially if it was small and valuable. Unfortunately that simple solution would probably not apply to Thorin.

If asked, Dwalin would tell anyone with completely false but generally persuasive enough conviction that no, he had no problem _whatsoever_ with being ordered about by Nori, or with the fact that Nori was clearly better suited to the task than he was. He certainly didn’t still carry a grudge for chasing the notoriously light-fingered dwarf all over the Blue Mountains – usually fruitlessly – and having been laughed at by said dwarf on a monthly basis for decades even before their return to Erebor.

He also didn’t dwell on the heated, passionate kiss they’d shared in the direct aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, both still high on adrenaline and covered in blood and grime. _That_ kiss. Which he certainly didn’t spend an inordinate amount of time remembering and daydreaming about.

Growling quietly to himself at his own folly, Dwalin lengthened his stride through the corridors of Erebor. The sooner he got to the training halls the sooner he could let off some of his frustration on unsuspecting trainees. As head of the royal guard and part-time weapons instructor it was practically expected of him anyway, and ever since that elven bastard’s visit a few days ago Dwalin had only been too happy unleashing his destructive tendencies on dwarves who needed to toughen up.

Between the Nori situation and his growing urge to bash Thorin’s head in for being a complete idiot, he was simply itching for action, and this waiting around for ideas about Thorin’s possible whereabouts to spring out of nowhere wasn’t suiting him at all.

He ground his teeth in barely suppressed anger when he found Nori casually leaning against a column at his favourite spot, obviously having awaited him.

“What is it now?” he snarled, his hands itching for his axes. Some unfortunate straw dummies would probably have to pay the price later.

Unfortunately Nori didn’t look intimidated in the least by his unfounded rage– not that he’d ever been, but it would make for a nice change, in Dwalin’s opinion.

“My, my, so tetchy,” the other dwarf drawled, grinning. He winked with exaggerated slowness. “There’re other ways to relax than beating up innocent training equipment, you know.”

Dwalin most emphatically did _not_ want to think about Nori and his implied _relaxation techniques_ – he already had enough problems without adding ‘can’t stop thinking about having sex with an ass’ to the list.

“What is it?” he repeated his question, ignoring the way more than one part of him was finding itself quite interested in Nori’s other topic of conversation.

For a fleeting moment Nori looked almost disappointed, but the emotion was gone so fast, replaced by his usual bland smugness, that Dwalin couldn’t be sure it had ever been there in the first place.

“Balin talked to Roac,” Nori stated, straightening out of his relaxed slouch into a more business-like stance. “Thorin went south, apparently he passed through Beorn’s lands again and departed towards the kingdoms of men from there. We leave in an hour.”

Relief spread through Dwalin, strong enough to eradicate his rage and frustration – finally they would be moving, actually _doing_ something to find Thorin. Dwalin with a purpose was a happy Dwalin.

He nodded at Nori. “I’ll meet you at the gate. I assume Fíli and Kíli are still insistent on joining us?”

“Naturally,” Nori replied, lips twitching wryly. “I already informed the rest of the royal guard. Wouldn’t want our king to get murdered on some lone country road after all.”

Dwalin snorted. “Not while I’m around.” Then he added, if grudgingly, after all they had saved each other’s lived during the battle several times, “Or you are, for that matter.”

For once Nori’s smile seemed genuine, and Dwalin didn’t even mind the shooing motion the other directed at him to get him going.

It wasn’t as if he needed to pack anyway – they’d all been ready and packed since the day Thranduil had confessed what he’d done, just waiting for the moment to move out. Though apparently not all the dwarves involved had packed with much sense, as Dwalin had to find out an hour later when they all gathered at the gate.

For once he and Nori were completely of one mind, as they both immediately snapped at most of the royal guard, who were supposed to accompany them, to _bloody get rid of that armour, we’re trying to go unnoticed not attract everyone’s attention by being bloody obviously royal guards_. In Erebor flashy armour to mark them as such was all well and good, but not on such a journey as they were about to embark on. It would be far better if no one they met guessed that they were in the presence of the King of Erebor and his prince brother.

Fíli and Kíli, who arrived a few minutes later, at least seemed aware of that, since they had dressed much as they had on the quest for Erebor, practical and comfortable. Nori, of course, always knew how to dress himself in a given situation – adapting to different circumstances had been a necessary survival skill in his line of work until a few years ago after all.

*

A few days into their journey Dwalin’s vague suspicions that Nori was up to something involving him, solidified into conviction. Not only did the other dwarf keep riding next to him, sometimes silent, sometimes chattering away until Dwalin wanted nothing more than to cover his ears for some peace and quiet, there was also the issue of how small bits and bobs around him – and even on his person, at times – kept disappearing one day, and reappearing the other day, in exactly the same location, as if they’d never been gone.

It was driving Dwalin mad, especially since Nori was far too clever to let himself be caught at it – in truth, Dwalin still had mostly no idea _how_ he even managed it. Sometimes he wondered if there was a reason why Nori was so insistent on badgering him, more than the usual ‘to annoy Dwalin because it’s fun’ reason anyway. Maybe the other dwarf was just bored. Compared to their last journey this one was positively tame, in fact, nothing much had happened at all, except for them plodding along and a few encounters with wild animals.

Left with nothing much else to do, Dwalin started plotting ways in which to get the other dwarf back, but was disappointed to find that any ideas he came up with always proved impossible in their execution, since most of them relied on him being able to sneak up on Nori without being noticed – and that was something he still failed at every time he tried. Nori was far too light a sleeper not to startle awake whenever Dwalin trod closer to him.

He even resorted to asking Kíli and Fíli for help one night at the fire when Nori was off who knew where, but they both just stared at him with identical looks of incredulity.

Kíli shook his head. “No way we’re getting into the middle of your strange love dance!”

Which left Dwalin wondering when the fuck the two brothers had grown up enough to decline an offer for mischief. And when he’d started being as infantile as them, thus debasing himself into something of a raging hypocrite, as he’d reprimanded them for it often enough. And what in Mahal’s name did he mean when he said ‘ _love_ _dance’_?

Doubts surfaced, if he should indulge Nori in this game of his, but were quickly extinguished when he found, mere minutes later, that his best whetstone was missing from his pack.

So Dwalin waited, biding his time, looking out for the right opportunity. If he couldn’t get Nori back the conventional ways, something surprising would have to do – and he dearly hoped that his continued placid inaction was at least making the other a little nervous.

His chance came only a few days later, in a rather ironic fashion, if he did say so himself. Considering how often Nori hackled him for his obvious – and reciprocated – dislike of anything equestrian, Dwalin’s first reaction to having the other fall off his horse and hitting his head on the ground, _after_ the first instinctive concern at his welfare, which turned out to be unfounded as it had only been a light fall, was to laugh and try his best to commit this moment to his memory forever.

It only occurred to him rather late, therefore, once they’d properly made camp, Fíli, Kíli, Dwalin, and the still unconscious Nori gathered around one fire, and their guards around another, that these circumstances could be used to his advantage.

The royal brothers looked on interestedly as Dwalin crouched down next to Nori, neither hindering him nor encouraging – probably taking notes for future reference, even if they acted innocent now.

When he’d finally liberated all the knives he believed to be on Nori’s person, Dwalin retreated to the other side of the fire and set to work.

 For once Nori’s timing proved impeccable. Dwalin had just finished with the last knife when Nori opened his eyes, muzzy disorientation almost directly replaced by sharp alarm, then ruefulness.

“I supposed you’re going to tell me that I earned that one,” he murmured dryly, sitting up a little  
gingerly.

Dwalin’s only answer was a knife-throw. The glimmering blade embedded itself only inches from  
Nori’s hand, still quivering. Nori hadn’t even flinched and Dwalin could only pretend that the other’s  
complete trust in his abilities didn’t warm him deep down.

Dwalin smirked. “I think you’ll find them sharper than before.”

Nori cocked his head a little, clearly considering that statement, then ran a finger alongside the blade he’d just been about to tuck back in one of the numerous secret compartments in his attire. His finger came away red and he hmmed appreciatively.

Once more Nori’s smile, when he looked back up at Dwalin, struck him as suspiciously sincere. Of course it turned slightly wicked only a moment later. “Now, what do I have to do to get the rest back?”

“I have some ideas,” Dwalin murmured, his gruff voice going even deeper than usual. He steadfastly ignored the strange noises coming from Fíli and Kíli’s side of the fire – and the fact that the two seemed to be slowly inching backwards away from its warming heat – and kept his focus solely on the dwarf opposite him.

Nori raised an eyebrow – and Dwalin had never before regarded _eyebrows_ as particularly flirty, but here he was. “Which would be?”

Now it was his turn to smirk. “That would be telling.” And he dumped all of the knives to the ground next to Nori.

And then he went to sleep.

*

Thorin wasn’t doing a whole lot to get back into Dwalin’s good books. In fact, he appeared to be doing his level best to avoid just that, as he somehow managed to give their search party the slip not only in Edoras, but also in Minas Tirith, and Dwalin was getting seriously tired of chasing his errant king and friend all over Middle-earth.

He also wasn’t too happy about sitting in on another round of ‘Where could Thorin have gone off to now?’ a few days ride outside Minas Tirith in some forest that reminded him far too much of a less sinister version of Mirkwood to be comfortable.

Initially they’d all agreed that Thorin wouldn’t have gone south or east, but now that they were back on the road north towards Edoras, it begged the question where Thorin would turn after passing that city of men.

“The Shire,” Nori voiced after a few minutes of fruitless discussion, sounding completely assured of his statement. Silence met his announcement.

Fíli and Kíli turned to him as one.

“With _Bilbo_?” Fíli asked, clearly sceptical. “After all that happened at Erebor?”

Dwalin couldn’t help but share his doubts – Thorin had been fond of the Halfling, yes, but with the whole arkenstone business and, as far as he knew, Thorin having left without mending their relationship, the Shire hardly seemed like the ideal place to go.

On the other hand, Dwalin had come to know through painful experience that Nori was uncannily good at figuring things like this out.

Even if he still didn’t really believe it to be true, he shrugged and grunted, “Might as well go there. I’d think it’s the right direction anyway.”

Kíli nodded, looking happy to have a plan of action again, but Fíli remained unconvinced. “Why do you think he would go to Bilbo, Nori?”

Nori’s shrug was elaborately exaggerated. “Apart from Thorin not having many other options left? Probably the fact that he’s secretly in love with Bilbo.”

“ _What_?!” three voices cried in unison.

Dwalin closed his mouth with a snap, still staring at Nori as if he’d grown a second head. “What?” he repeated.

Nori raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the way they kept staring at each other when they thought no one was looking. Why did you _think_ Thorin was so angry at Bilbo’s betrayal?”

“Because it was a _betrayal_ and Uncle doesn’t deal well with that on the best of days,” Kíli answered, still sounding mystified by the whole idea of Thorin being _in love_ of all things, and Fíli nodded along.

Dwalin, however, had other questions. “But why didn’t he do something then? Court him?”

“I don’t think he was aware of it himself,” Nori replied, sounding uncommonly thoughtful. “No offense, but our dear king can be as thick as a stone wall when he wants to be.”

Fíli and Kíli shared a look and a smirk, then chimed, “True enough.”

Dwalin, however, wasn’t so easily convinced – even if that bit about Thorin being a complete blockhead was indubitably true, as his friend had proven many times over – but he decided that his doubts could wait for another day.  He didn’t argue with their decision to head for the shire, though; Thorin might’ve gone there _without_ having any strange feelings for their burglar just as well.

He did, however, keep sneaking covert glances at Nori for some days to come, wondering whether the other dwarf was really as good at spotting people with feelings for others as he claimed – for then Dwalin was in the very real danger of having his growing attachment for the thief discovered, as well as his mounting horror at the idea that it might, just possibly, be more than just an attachment.

Not that he was admitting anything.

*

It turned out that Nori had been right about Thorin hiding in the Shire.

Somehow they ended up fucking – for the first time – against the stable wall after finding that out.

Which might or might not have been a mistake (it had certainly felt bloody good at the time).

Still, Dwalin was all for leaving the Shire and its connotations behind _as soon as possible_.

(Even if Dori was absolutely going to kill him.) 


End file.
